


Monsters Under The Bed (Aren't As Bad As They Seem)

by ANervousBoysLife



Series: Monster AU [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Coping, Existential Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Monsters, Young!patrick, monster under the bed, monster!pete, protect patrick at all costs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:11:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANervousBoysLife/pseuds/ANervousBoysLife
Summary: Once calm, the boy looked up at the man. He seemed to study his face for a while before asking, “Who are you?”The man slowly released the boy, scooting back so that he could face him properly. The man spoke, saying the same thing he had many nights before. “I’m Mr. Sandman. And who are you?”





	1. Midnight Whisperings

**Author's Note:**

> I've been debating on writing this for months, but I've finally decided to do it.  
> A friend of mine and I started thinking this up a while ago, and I've decided to share it with you all.  
> I hope I can do my imagination a justice.

A young child, merely five years of age and as innocent as could be, was sleeping fitfully in a small, uncomfortable mattress which was old and on the brink of falling apart. The sheets which wrapped him were barely enough to keep him warm, and his strawberry blond hair was messy atop the caseless pillow. 

Suddenly, as had occurred countless times before, the boy sat up and wailed. This had been the case many times on nights which the poor five year old couldn’t recall. He continued to cry, holding on tightly to the one comfort item he had in his room, a small stuffed bear which showed years of use, yet managed to stay in tact.

Creeping from the darkness came a dark figure, almost a shadow against the floor. The figure’s limbs extended out from under the bed, gripping onto the side of the frame and dragging the rest of it’s weight out. Soon, a mop of dark, greasy hair emerged, followed by a pale face of a man. He had dark eyes, which were surrounded by shadows. He held a blank face carefully, almost as if he were afraid to change expressions. The now exposed man crawled onto the bed, carefully wrapping his darkly-cloaked arms around the crying child. 

Surprisingly, the boy wasn’t frightened. Instead, he hugged onto the figure. The man had a familiar presence to him, and it comforted the crying boy. The man rocked the boy back and forth, humming a soothing tune which seemed to will away the nightmares and replace the tears. The room became silent once more, save for the small tune. 

Once calm, the boy looked up at the man. He seemed to study his face for a while before asking, “Who are you?”

The man slowly released the boy, scooting back so that he could face him properly. The man spoke, saying the same thing he had many nights before. “I’m Mr. Sandman. And who are you?”

The strawberry-blond boy wiped his eyes and looked at Mr. Sandman shyly. “I’m Patrick.” Sandman had already known this, but he nodded as if he hadn’t all the same. 

“Hello, Patrick. Would you like some candy?”

It was the same offer he had given every night, a small candy the color of cherries. It was always changing form, be it a lollipop or a gummy worm. It was always bright red, and the boy had never refused. Until tonight.

“Nuh-uh. ‘M not supposed to.”

Sandman looked shocked, his darkened eyes widening. “No? And why not?” He pulled out a small, wrapped hard candy and set it neatly on the bed. He tilted his head at the small boy, prompting him to go on.

Patrick looked at the bed, messing with the worn fur of his stuffed bear. “Mommy and daddy say I can’t have candy anymore because it makes kids rotten, and I’m rotten.” 

Sandman frowned. It wasn’t actually of shock to him, due to the harsh treatment of Patrick in the past, but it still concerned him. He shook his head and picked up the candy between two long fingers, offering it again. “No it doesn’t. It makes kids sweet, and you’re a sweet kid.” 

Patrick looked hesitant before taking the candy, placing it in his mouth. He sucked on the red candy, and his eyelids began to droop. Sandman lifted Patrick and slowly tucked him into the bed, kissing his forehead. He slipped back under the bed, where the shadows concealed him.

As the last of the candy dissolved in Patrick’s mouth, he finally slipped off into a peaceful sleep.


	2. Before I Had A Birthday With Double Digits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the motivation of a few (I'm looking @ u guys) I'm posting this today. Enjoy!

Three birthdays, lots of yelling, and zero cakes later, not much had changed. Sandman still greeted Patrick whenever he had nightmares, but one thing was different. Now that the small boy had turned eight years old and still had not gained a single friend, the man took it upon himself to take on the role as Patrick’s friend, even though it was important for him to not remember Sandman’s face. That’s where the candy came in. If Patrick ate it, he would forget everything that had to do with Sandman for that night. Of course, Sandman had other ways of making Patrick forget, but that one seemed easiest. When Patrick wasn’t in dire need of physical affection, he’d communicate with him from under the bed, letting him have those fond memories of talking to someone who would listen to him.

When the eight year old boy entered the room, there was the sound of the lock clicking into place. Sandman, from his spot under the bed, saw the boy’s tiny feet turn around. There was the sound of the doorknob being jostled around for a bit before a heavy sigh. Sandman knew that Patrick’s parents had turned the door’s lock so that they could lock him in, but it still saddened him every time they shut him out from the world, even his own family.

The boy set his backpack down and sat on the floor, leaning against the off-white door. He pulled his small legs to his chest, looking across the room towards the bed. Sandman knew that he was unable to see him, simply because Sandman was designed to be hidden in the shadows under a bed.

“Mr. Sandman, I know you’re there.” The boy said quietly, tilting his head. “Why don’t you ever come out?”

The man frowned, one of the few faces he could make without scaring the boy out of his mind, before finally speaking the truth. “If I came out, you’d be afraid of me.” Of course he had come out plenty of times, but if the boy had remembered them, he would have asked why Sandman had never smiled, and Sandman wasn’t ready to show that to the poor boy. 

Patrick didn’t seem satisfied with that answer and crawled over to the edge of the bed. “Could you come out just once? Please?” He pleaded with large eyes, “I wanna see my best friend.”

Sandman’s heart tugged at the words ‘best friend’. He knew that wouldn’t be the case much longer, especially since most kids stopped believing in monsters under their beds around the age of ten. He wouldn’t be around much longer, and he didn’t want Patrick to be treated like most who didn’t stop believing. 

But, Patrick continued to make a pleading face at the underside of his bed, and Sandman couldn’t bring himself to say a flat out no. “I guess… I’ll come out another time, okay? I’m not quite dressed to greet you.” Which was a complete lie, he had never changed his outfit. Not once.

But the answer seemed to satisfy the young boy, and he scooted away from the bed. “Will you come out on my birthday?” He asked, “It’s in nine days!” He looked hopeful.

There was a small sigh from under the bed before the monster gave in. “Yeah, okay. I’ll come out on your birthday.”

Patrick smiled happily then climbed onto his bed. “Thank you, Mr. Sandman. Thank you.”

But the monster wasn’t as happy. He’d have to use something stronger than candy to make Patrick forget that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos, comment, or w/e if you enjoyed. I really wanna hear feedback, so don't feel shy!


	3. Run Dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another update. 3 days in a row. Don't get used to it! I have a lot of work coming up, but I should be able to update since break starts on wednesday. Thank you all so much for the support, though! it means a lot!

Patrick, more energized than Sandman had seen him in years, bounded into the room. He closed his door and, for once, didn’t pay any mind to the clicking of the lock. The laughter that came from the other side of the cheap door didn’t affect his mood either, nor did the snarky remarks made by his parents. It was his birthday, which meant he got to see his best friend’s face.

Patrick dropped onto his hands and knees on the floor, his hands sliding against the rough carpet. He tilted his head, trying to get a good look at the dark shadows underneath the bedframe. He could make out a single dark blob, but that was it. He assumed the blob was Sandman. “Hey! Mr. Sandman! Are you gonna keep your promise or what?”

Sandman, who had been watching Patrick the whole time, sighed. “Alright, I’ll come out. But you have to promise me something.” He watched the young boy nod slowly. “You can’t tell anyone about me, and you especially can’t tell your parents.”

Patrick sat up and frowned. “Why can’t I tell my parents?”

Sandman thought long and hard about what to say. Patrick’s parents wouldn’t really care about what Patrick said, nor would they even pay enough attention to register the words. Sandman also knew the whole concept of how things worked was foreign to Patrick and humans as a whole, but he couldn’t just brush off a question like that. “Well, Patrick, I’m the monster under your bed, right?”

Patrick nodded, “Right.”

“Well, adults don’t believe in monsters anymore, so they can’t see us. Only kids can see us, until they stop believing. Then their monster fades away and they can no longer see other people’s monsters.”

Patrick seemed to take that as a good enough answer. “Okay, I won’t tell ‘em. Will you come out now?” He looked eager, shifting and moving impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming…” Sandman braced himself before slowly dragging himself out from under the bed. The light shocked him a bit, but he soon grew used to the light. His hair was dark and messy, alike to how it had been when Patrick first saw him, although Patrick didn’t remember. Sandman continued to keep his face carefully blank, having to consciously tell himself not to smile. His clothes remained the same as well, as did the darkness around his eyes. 

The small boy looked up at Sandman for a moment before quickly hugging him. It caught Sandman off guard, but he returned the gesture all the same. “Hey, buddy…”

It was only when Patrick pulled away and froze did Sandman realize he had been smiling. His smile was always something he was careful about. His mouth was the one odd thing about him, something all monsters had. His mouth stretched wide across his face, too wide, and his teeth became jagged and sharp when he smiled. His cheeks pulled back, and he was the perfect idea of a nightmare. 

Yet, for some reason unbeknownst to Sandman, Patrick didn’t look scared, but curious. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Sandman asked to Patrick, not bothering to withhold his smile any longer.

It took Patrick a bit to find his words, mostly because the concept was hard for him to explain. Sandman had forgotten that Patrick was only nine as of today. He felt he was older with his emotions. “‘M not scared of anything… th’ only thing that scares me is Daddy when he drinks beer.” 

There wasn’t a time when Patrick’s father didn’t drink a form of alcohol, and Sandman knew that. He knew everything that went on within the house, but he also knew exactly what Patrick had meant. When Patrick’s father was drunk, he enjoyed taking out his problems on his children. When Patrick’s older brother had left, it was during one of his father’s drunken rages. There was broken glass involved and someone almost died. Sandman still got chills thinking about how he could have lost Patrick. It was Patrick’s father who was the real monster. 

Sandman nodded and reached to Patrick again, who crawled into his lap and hugged him. “Mr. Sandman?”

“Just call me Sandman.”

“Okay, Sandman. How old are you?”

The question settled within Sandman’s mind, and he answered. “I’m as old as you are, but I was born fully grown, with all the knowledge I needed to care for you.”

Patrick nodded and looked at Sandman’s smile. “You have pretty teeth. I like ‘em.”

Sandman’s heart pulled a little and he held the small boy slightly tighter. “Thank you. I don’t like them as much, but thank you.” He rocked Patrick gently and started to hum. The boy yawned, curling up in Sandman’s lap. Once he started to get sleepier, Sandman started to sing.

“One more shot then I’m quitting forever, cross my heart, cross my fingers, cross my heart, cross my fingers…” 

Darkness was fading into the corners of Patrick’s consciousness as his grip on Sandman loosened.

“... And I don’t remember what I did last night…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify:  
> When Sandman sings "Run Dry" he is selectively clearing memories from Patrick's mind. It's one of the two ways he can make Patrick forget things. 
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	4. Far Too Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry late-christmas. Sorry for the wait! I got pokemon sun and moon for christmas so you can guess how my free time is being spent. I also have finals in january as well as two school productions I am taking part in, so there's a few other excuses. But I promise I have the story all plotted out in my head. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Sandman was flipping through the pages of a magazine he had found underneath the edge of Patrick’s mattress when the bedroom door slammed shut. He quickly closed the glossy papers and slid them deeper into the shadows under the bed. 

Patrick dropped his things and fell onto the bed with a huff. He let his arm dangle off the side of the bed as he stared at the ceiling. He was fourteen years old now, and with every passing day Sandman was growing more concerned. It was almost unheard of for a kid to continue to believe past the age of ten. 

“Sandman?” Patrick asked quietly, a goofy grin on his face. “Do you know what a crush is?”

“Not a clue, ‘Trick. What’s a crush?” Sandman seemed confused, looking at Patrick through the reflection in his mirror. He could just make out the small smile on the boy’s face.

“A crush is… It’s when you like someone a lot and wanna spend a lot of time with them.”

There was a pause before a noise of understanding could be heard from under the bed. “So I have a crush on you?”

Patrick sat up quickly, “No, no. You don’t. Crushes are like… You wanna hold hands with them and kiss them.”

“Ah…” Sandman grabbed the magazine again, looking through the pages. “Do you have a crush?”

Patrick’s face turned tomato red and he looked at his bed. Of course he had a crush, he was fourteen, it was only natural. “Yeah…”

“Who’s the boy?” Sandman asked casually, tracing his finger along the toned abs of a model in the magazine.

“Huh? Who said anything about it being a boy?” Patrick hopped off the bed and stared at the dark underside. 

Sandman pushed the magazine out from under the bed, the page turned to an almost completely naked male model. “I think this does. Every page is filled with these guys. Some aren’t even wearing clothes! Why are they taking pictures with their p--”

“That’s enough!” Patrick snatched up the magazine and put it under his pillow. “Okay, I like guys. Is there a problem?”

Sandman grinned at Patrick’s bright red face. “Nope. No problem at all. I never understood people’s attraction to one another. It doesn’t really make sense. Anyways, who’s the boy you like?”

Patrick slowly sat down on the floor before laying back, looking up at the ceiling. “Uh… it’s this boy named Luke…”

And so they sat, Patrick continuing on and on about his crush on Luke while Sandman half listened. He couldn’t stop focusing on the future, though. He was concerned, more so than before. Patrick was growing up, and Sandman was happy he had someone other than him, but he didn’t want Patrick to still have him around when he started to date. It’d pose a major problem for all parties involved, be it Patrick torn between his boyfriend and monster, said boyfriend who will be lied to, and Sandman. He didn’t want to be stuck under the bed when Patrick did what all humans eventually ended up doing with their lovers. Worst of all, if anyone found out about Sandman, Patrick would be given monster killers, and that was the worst outcome of all.

“Sandman? Are you even listening?” Patrick was frowning, crossing his arms and staring at the dark underside of the bed.

“Hm?” Sandman broke from his thoughts, kind of glad to be pulled from the worries of the future. “Sorry, I kind of zoned out. Continue?” 

As Patrick ranted on, Sandman couldn’t shake the sinking feeling he got when he thought of the times to come, however long he had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave feedback if you'd like! I'm always listening but I suck at responses, so...


	5. Can I Lay In Your Bed All Day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support and sorry for the long wait! Here it is! 
> 
> **Warnings/spoilers: Mention of rape, angst, etc.** SORRY

Waiting for Patrick to come home always bored Sandman. He’d been doing it for years, yet he still hated the hours waiting. It had gotten worse over the years, watching his friends fade from existence as Patrick’s siblings forgot about their own monsters. 

Thinking about Kobra and Ivy always got him down. Sandman had always wondered how many days he had left until he would see his friends again. He only had but so much time left before Patrick forgot about him, or worse. It was inevitable.

Just as Sandman’s thoughts were going to spiral even further down, there was a loud slam as the front door was closed. It was far past the time the seventeen-year-old was usually home, considering his boyfriend of two months had started to drive him home. Once the footsteps which were sounding through the house got to the bedroom door, it opened. Patrick stepped inside and closed his door quickly, locking it after. He looked around his room, shaking slightly before settling onto the floor, his knees pulled tightly to his chest. His shaking gave way to sniffles, which then gave way to quiet sobbing.

From under the bed, Sandman could barely make out the darkening marks on Patrick’s wrists from where they were showing from under his slightly-too-small jacket. He so wanted to reach out to Patrick, to hold him tightly and tell him it was going to be okay, but if he showed himself, he would have to make Patrick forget his comforting. How cruel the world was. 

“Patrick..?” Sandman called, a little uncertain. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Patrick’s sobbing quieted a little as he lifted his head, rubbing the tears from his eyes and snot from his nose. “S-Sandman?” He chewed at his lip, which looked to be bloody. “I… It was L-Luke…” Patrick’s boyfriend. He had gotten the courage to ask Luke out after pining for years. Luke had said yes, and Patrick had never complained. He had been happy, and Sandman had been hoping they’d never end up in the same room together.

“What did he do?” Sandman asked, keeping his tone even. Patrick never knew of his disdain for Luke, which was probably out of jealousy. Sandman knew he was attached to Patrick, a little too much to be quite honest, but he couldn’t help himself. Patrick was the only person he really bonded with. 

Patrick looked at Sandman, not really seeing him but looking in his general direction. His bloodshot eyes seemed to stare deeply into Sandman’s soul. Patrick’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke. “He… He wanted to… but I didn’t…” Patrick started to shake.

Sandman frowned as he watched Patrick curl into a ball and cry yet again. He debated with himself for a bit before getting out from under the bed, crawling over to Patrick and wrapping him in a hug. The teen clung onto the monster, thrown into a harsh fit of crying, snot and tears mixing on his face while loud sobs wracked his body. Once he had calmed enough and the tears had dried, Sandman retrieved a tissue from his pocket and wiped at Patrick’s face until it was clean. 

The look on Patrick’s face was so broken, so painful for Sandman to look at. He had to look away, a frown tugging at his lips. “I’m sorry, Patrick.”

The boy messed with his jeans, sniffling occasionally. “I just want to forget it all…”

Sandman’s heart pulled, but he knew he couldn’t make Patrick forget, as bad as it was. It wouldn’t be fair for him to not know what had happened to him. Instead, he just rubbed Patrick’s back. “I know, I’m sorry…”

Patrick let out a tiny, broken laugh. “I can’t believe it took… that to get to see you.” 

Sandman shook his head, pulling him closer. If he couldn’t make him forget, he would have to stay. Patrick needed someone, someone more than a monster under the bed. “I’m sorry… I wasn’t ready for you to see me like this…”

Patrick looked at Sandman, swollen eyes examining his face. “I don’t know what you mean. You look normal.” Patrick’s hand cupped itself on Sandman’s cheek, rubbing at the skin. He had no physical flaws, except for his smile of course. Patrick looked awestruck despite his previous fit of sobbing. 

“Not like this... “ Sandman sighed, moving Patrick’s hand. “Like this.” He took a deep breath before forcing a smile, his skin pulling back towards his cheekbones as his smile elongated across his face. His teeth grew razor sharp, threatening and pointy. He knew Patrick wouldn’t be scared anymore, but he also knew Patrick would find him ugly and unlovable. 

Instead of the rejection Sandman thought he would face, Patrick clung to him tightly. “You’re so brave…” He whispered, “I love you.”

Sandman knew better than to kiss Patrick’s head. He knew better than to let him remember. He knew better than to tuck Patrick in without a sweet or song. And he most certainly knew better than to fall asleep beside him, holding him close to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos and comment! Thank you so much!
> 
> Let me know if there are any mistakes within the chapter, please!


	6. True Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clothing is important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry for basically dropping this au. its all developed in my head but i have like zero motivation or inspiration to write it anymore. I'm so sorry so heres a short snippet ive had written forever but not totally finished. It's like a half-chapter basically, but it works for a full one.

He never made Patrick forget after that, but he held the secrets of his visits, the ones only he remembered, close to his chest. Patrick could never know about all the times he had seen Sandman but couldn’t remember. He couldn’t know just how much of a monster Sandman truly was.

The thing was, Sandman loved Patrick. He loved him more than anyone could love another person, but Sandman wasn’t a person. He was a monster that had nowhere else to live but under Patrick’s bed. He was a monster that was supposed to die years ago. Patrick hadn’t forgotten him yet, and while it made him happy, he was also very worried. He didn’t _want_ Patrick to forget about him anymore, and that was the scary part. If Patrick never forgot him, he would never be normal. If Patrick didn’t forget him, he’d have to watch Patrick live on without him. If he never forgot him, then Sandman was risking losing the one he loved to the monster-killers, risked dying in front of his one love, risked dying while being afraid to die.

He never let Patrick know all of these things, never allowed him to know that he was slowly worrying himself to death. Patrick didn’t need to know, didn’t need the only good thing in his life to be damaged. So, Sandman kept to himself about these matters, tracing lightly on the floor as he hid under the bed while Patrick was away, comforted by the darkness that surrounded him for all these years. 

When the door slammed shut and a bag was dropped, Sandman took his cue to emerge yet again. Patrick had stopped gasping every time Sandman crawled out, but instead gave admiring looks, though Sandman didn’t know of the budding crush. 

After a few video games, which Patrick kept muted so his parents wouldn’t find them and destroy them, the boy turned to the monster. “Can we ever go out and do something? Together?”

“No one else can see me,” reminded Sandman, “except for the children who still believe in monsters.”

Patrick frowned. “Really? No one can?” He set his controller down, facing Sandman completely. “Why not?”

“Because…” Sandman set aside the other controller, running a hand through his long, greasy, messy hair. “Because my clothes are made to shield the world from me. They’re enchanted so only believers see me. It’s the same for every monster.”

Patrick was already up, going to his closet by the time Sandman could ask what he was doing.

“I’m finding you real clothes, non-enchanted ones.” He tossed a shirt, which covered Sandman’s face. “That way we can go out in public and I won't look like I’m talking to myself.”

“Woah!” Sandman rushed over and stilled Patrick’s searching hands. “Are you forgetting my face? I can’t hide that, and as soon as I do as much as grin everyone in the street will be panicking. This isn’t a good idea!”

Patrick rolled his eyes and slipped a bandanna around Sandman’s neck. “It’ll be fine.” He turned back to searching, finding the perfect outfit. “Aha!” He held up a black t-shirt and dark jeans. “These are too small for me now, since you’ve literally fed me candy every day of my life. They’ll fit you, though.” He turned his back to let Sandman change in peace. “Put it on. Tell me when it’s safe to turn around.”

The monster sighed. He knew reasoning with Patrick would get him nowhere, the kid was too stubborn. He changed, his odd and complicated clothing bunched on the floor. He’d never worn anything different, never taken off the items before. It felt strange, somehow, like his skin was settling and he was _real_. 

“It’s safe.” He looked down at himself, adjusting the shirt on his body. He had no way of knowing if he’d put it on correctly. When Patrick turned to look at him, he simply nodded. “Looks about right.” He pulled the bandana over Sandman’s mouth, hiding the entire lower portion of his face. “If anyone asks, you’re sick.”

With a simple nod, Patrick lead Sandman out of the bedroom, tiptoeing through the quiet house until they reached the front door without incident. If Patrick’s parents had seen him walking through the house with a seemingly full grown man wearing his clothing, he’d be murdered, probably. That or locked in his room for days with no food. It wasn’t ideal.

Once they left the house, Patrick visibly relaxed. He hated living there, hated how he was always locked away. He could actually breathe outside, feel safe, even.

Sandman, though, was looking around in wonder. He’d never seen the outside of Patrick’s room, never seen grass or trees or the blue sky. He looked at it all in amazement. “It’s so… nice…” He held onto Patrick’s hand tightly, eyes observing the clouds. “It just… goes on forever.”

Patrick smiled a tiny bit. “It does. Come on, we’ve got things to see.”


End file.
